


Wristbands

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [482]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Depression, Depression mention, Gen, Introspection, Past Suicide Attempt, Suicide mention, could be gen or ot3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 07:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11203239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Eliot wears his wristbands for a reason.





	Wristbands

Eliot tries not to show off how fucked up he is.

He’s the rock Hardison and Parker lean on, the one who’s supposed to keep it together and plow his way through, usually literally. For the most part, it’s not hard. He loves them, wants to do what’s best for them, be what’s best for them, and, well, after his life, nothing seems quite that bad in comparison. Things will seem briefly unmanageable, but his years with the crew have taught him any problem can be dealt with, and he knows they can get through anything.

So he’s the rock, the steadiness in any storm, and he doesn’t let things get to him.

Parker plays with his wristbands, sometimes. “Why do you always wear these?” She asks.

He always jerks his arm away, careful as he can, because he won’t hurt her, not even then. “Because I can.”

Because they come in the perfect size to cover up two jagged lines, sloppy and messy from drunken anger, marks made by a washed-up soldier not good enough for the military anymore and too soft still for the wet work that was the only thing he was qualified for. Not wanted at home, not wanted by the military, not needed by anyone else. And Eliot’s always needed to be needed.

Eliot tries not to think about that time. He was no one’s rock then. Not even his own.

He wears the wristbands and they disappear. Easy as that.

And then…and then their client…

Eliot has a face like stone, doesn’t have to tell them anything, let on that he understands in even the slightest. That’s not his job. His job is to take down the company that stole everything from this man, made him feel less than worthless, like trash.

“It’ll get better,” Eliot says quietly, walking him out the door.

The guy–James–snorts. “No offense, man. But how do you know?”

Eliot tugs off the leather wristband. “It will,” he says. He tries to not look at the cuts on his own wrist but then gives it up, looks, makes himself take it in. “You can get low, people can get ya low, but look…” Eliot throws a look over his shoulder, even if he can’t see Parker and Hardison from here. “It’ll come back up again.”

“How’d you…”

“I didn’t,” Eliot says. He looks back at the marks on his arm. Ugly, stark. Ever-present, ignored for years. “But it’s never too late. We’re gonna fix this, and you’re gonna start.”

When he sees James out the door, he walks back into the apartment and plops onto the couch. “Your bracelet is off,” Parker says.

Any other day, he might have told her it’s not a bracelet. Today, he just says, “Yeah.”

“Your wrist.”

“Yeah.”

She stares for a moment, but then she looks at him, right in the eyes, and Eliot releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

Nothing’s changed. Not really.

“I’ll get Hardison,” she says. “We have a job to plan.”


End file.
